


Sometimes A Great Notion

by blue_crow



Category: Tron - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-18
Updated: 2011-12-18
Packaged: 2017-10-27 11:38:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/295437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blue_crow/pseuds/blue_crow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ram awakens in a strange and unwelcome place, one that works very differently from the domain that he is used to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sometimes A Great Notion

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to and for beta readings! I really appreciate it.

The shock of frigid water forces his consciousness together.  It is bright, too bright, the whiteness of the sky is as raw and wrong as the bite of the sea; he scrambles against the rocky shore, fighting the tide.  His fingers dig for holds in the sharp gravel as the undertow pulls away, and when the next wave comes, it pushes him ashore.  Gasping, he lays on his back to collect himself, his chest convulsing- shivering, he thinks, a word he's never known until he needed use of it.  He locks his eyes shut to keep out all the light.  He can't resist hoping that when he opens them, he'll see his User, any User, or even the rumored terror of the MCP's overwhelming visage. Long moments go by and the searing white behind his eyelids doesn't relent.

Ram feels the power level in his body drop as another wave crashes over his legs, as if the water is leaching it away.  Defeated, he scrambles for footing, and stands to survey his new surroundings.  He's washed ashore on an expansive cove of white sand, and behind him is a black ocean that he cannot see the end of.  Instead of the cityscape he'd always known, barren land stretches to the horizon, scattered with spare husks of buildings that almost remind him of home.  A current of air winds around him, stealing away more of his heat, and he wraps his arms around himself in an effort to keep warm.  The sea behind him isn't the water he knows; if anything, it is the opposite of the energy spring he shared with Tron and the User.  It is cold and joyless and, as he licks his lips to test, bitter.  His most dire need is to fill his body with energy to replace the loss- the hollow pallor of his circuits is a constant reminder.

Further down the shore he sees the outline of an unmoving program, half-submerged.  He ventures towards it for a closer look, but when he's only a few paces away he stops short, unsure of whether to continue or to flee.  Where there should be a neck connecting the helmet and the chestpiece, there's nothing- and when he does dare to step closer, there's no face, either.  The water must have leached the entire program away, leaving behind an exoskeleton of white armor.  The circuit patterns look almost like his, horizontal lines on each side of the chest, and he realizes with a start that this must be one of the programs they had defeated on the lightcycle grid not long ago.  This program had come to this place because of him, and he hadn't made it.

He kneels beside the program to offer a hasty prayer to his User, and then to User Flynn, begging for commands that never come.  He hadn't been the most devout program, but in such a forbidding landscape, the notion of a User to guide him is a comfort that he needs more than anything. Uncertain as to his next step, he picks up the program's helmet and lays it down on the sand, as if it's looking out to sea.  It is a futile memorial, and Ram knows it, but it seems the only respect he can pay.  It's all he can do to salve the sudden- unexpected- guilt over his part in the program's demise.

A flicker of blue catches Ram's eye, the only color he's seen besides his own circuits, a soft light glowing inside a ruin of a tower on the far edge of the cove. He continues along the beach towards it, hoping for an energy well, or another program-- even Tron. If Tron is here, then all is lost. In a panic, he bolts for the light, boots thudding against the wet sand.

When he reaches the tower, he doubles over to sob for breath, his hand clutching at the crumbling wall. Inside is not Tron, not a program. He's relieved and feels bitterly alone at the same time.

Instead, the blue glow is an ETC panel, a weak one, but enough to recover the strength that the water took from him. He collapses against it, pressing his cheek against the surface, basking in the slight warmth the energy provides. Too quickly, it drains away, but Ram is confident that it will refill. If he's patient, he'll be back to full strength eventually. He has to recover. He can't allow himself to give up like that poor lightcyclist below. If another unfortunate program washes ashore, he'll have to save him. They'll do the best they can together. Without commands from his User, it is the only course he can take.

The ghost of warmth lingers where the glow has faded, and it lulls Ram towards a sleep cycle. He dozes fitfully, waking for long enough to scan the horizon for movement and then falling back under. The crests of waves keep startling him awake, and he's ready to dismiss all white protrusions among them until he spies a streak of violent red. A program is floundering in the water.

No, several programs are in the water, clinging to each other or trying to use each other's bodies as life rafts- he can't tell. They have red circuits, which are fading with alarming speed, but even as he jogs to the shore he knows he won't make it out to them in time. One bulky-armored program meets his eyes in a scowl and reaches desperately to his back, searching for his disk, but in the time it takes him to complete the motion, another forces him under the water. Ram stands on the edge of the shore, terrified to cross the line into the water, knowing he can't risk the minutes of swimming it would take to help them and uncertain if he'd even want to. The last of the strugglers finally sinks under the waves, the red glow persisting in the water for seconds until it finally goes out.

Ashamed of his own cowardice and inability to change their fate, Ram scans the shoreline for the helmet he left just out of the reach of the waves. The white of the object is the same pallor of the sand, and it takes him a while to see the smooth patch amongst the rocks. When he does he walks over to sit beside it, knees to his chest, staring out into the restless black sea. He'd never been to a domain with a horizon, not until they made a run for it from the prison, and the immensity of it scares and excites him. As terrible and empty as this place is, there's possibility here, options, and he is curious as to what they may mean. Eventually he'll have to venture beyond the beach- the ETC strip in the tower won't be enough- but for now, his task is to watch for Tron.

His eyes eventually drift towards his own feet, and he notices that the chestpiece of the lightcyclist's armor is missing, taken by the waves. No, that's not quite right, and he looks down at where his hands rest on the gravel with sick dread. Part of the chestpiece rests against his hand, smashed into a smaller chunk of brittle white matter, identical to all of the other rocks on the beach, the same color and texture of the sand. A few of the rocks that he can see have holes through the center or protrusions on the ends, eroded, but their origin is clear.

Feeling ill, he paces back to the tower, wanting something beneath his feet other than the remains of his fellow programs. He only makes it halfway there before he spots another program in the waves, another red one. The program's circuits are dangerously pale as well, but he's closer and swimming towards the shore, making progress. Ram jogs to the point of shore where the program will intersect the beach and, faced with the decision to step into the water or conserve his resources until the last second, waits. He gauges the point at which the program will no longer be able to stand, trying to calculate the second at which he'll be able to meet him while still on his feet, but his estimations inch out as the program's once-regular strokes slow. Every breath Ram draws while standing on the shore is in shame, and the lone program's circuits start to flash blue.

The warning lights force Ram into the water, too aware of its bite against his circuits. The program reaches out for him once he's in range, and Ram catches his arm over his shoulder, hauling him shorewards. He makes sure to get them both entirely onto the beach before dropping to his knees beside the stranger, meeting his eyes.

The program isn't a stranger, after all. He's a member of the MCP's army, one of Sark's personal guards. Ram can't help identifying such a highly-ranked victim as a sign of turning tides back home. The lieutenant takes a sobbing gasp, and tries to crush Ram against himself, like he'd break him open and drink his insides if he could; Ram struggles to pull from his grasp. The water had taken its toll on the lieutenant, and Ram is stronger now- he reverses the flow of the energy drain, rescuing what the lieutenant is trying to steal.

The lieutenant goes limp underneath him, but Ram can't stop. He's sickened by his inability to stop taking, but he drains the other program until it is reduced to hollow armor, no more alive than the first program he found on the beach. He is left holding an empty husk with no skin or energy within.

He shudders as the helmet falls back against the sand and rocks slowly on its curved dome. He can't deny the warmth the lieutenant's energy brings to his body. It is richer and more satisfying than the energy from the ETC strip, but even the fact that the lieutenant tried to do the same thing to him doesn't remove his disgust. He carries the lieutenant's helmet to where he'd left the first one, sets it alongside, and kneels to pray. This time he expects no answer. He tries to steel himself to save the next program that might approach, but he knows now that his optimism may be wasted. He's not sure that he can do the right thing, or ever atone for the atrocious error of cannibalism. He prays for a future, for there to be more to this place than waiting for programs to derezz in the main system and wash up here. He needs more out of this existence than to be a lifeguard.

He starts to turn towards the sanctuary of the tower, to give up, when circuits in the water catch and hold his attention. They are not the round dome of a soldier's helmet- but a menacing, spiked cowl that can only belong to one program.

Sark drifts closer to the shore with each wave. The water bears his limp body like a gurney, and from what Ram can see, his eyes are closed. If not for his slowly fading circuits, he would have thought that Sark was as lifeless as the skulls beside him.

Sark's circuits begin to flash with a low power warning, like Ram's own had in the Recognizer. Ram knows that of all programs, the one he should let fade is Sark, the tyrant. It wouldn't just be sensible, to save himself the from the threat Sark poses, but it would be right-- Sark sent so many programs here. Then Sark's eyes slide open, just for a second, latching on his own before they close.

Ram bites back his fear and steps briskly over the line of the tide, walking until he must wade. He ignores the pain he starts to feel as he goes deeper, but he knows he's only expending energy that was ill-gotten anyway. Sark's body crashes into his own when he's buried to his ribcage, and he wraps one of the man's arms over his shoulders to haul him towards the shore as quickly as he can. The flashing of his circuits starts to slow, so he doesn't to waste any time as he feels his own reserves ebb. As he gets closer to shore, the ocean bears less of Sark's weight, but he stubbornly persists and drags him against the gravel until they're both free from the clutch of the water.

Ram straddles the other program, nearly panicking as he realizes how dire Sark's condition is. His circuits are hardly pulsing at all. Ram strokes gently along the chevron-shaped circuit on his chest, willing some of his energy into the older program. He pushes aside questions of why the User didn't struggle like this for him, didn't give a part of himself up for his survival. He only has his own sense of right and wrong to guide him. Now, here, he can make a difference; he can atone for his weakness by gifting his enemy with his own life force. Slowly, the blue spikes fade from Sark's circuits, and they begin to calm.

Sark's eyes slip open, only to lock on his savior's. Ram's instinct is to pull back, but Sark's hand clamps his own to his chest.

"Keep going," he purrs, his tone predatory.

Ram nods, feeding more energy from his body into Sark's, until he feels light-headed from the loss. He knows he can't save him and then deny him what he needs to survive now. Sark's circuits throb with red light as he absorbs the power, his body warming to the touch, and he takes from Ram until the power reaches his irises. The program's imposing aura swells as his body becomes stronger.

"I know who you are," Sark rumbles, his attention fully trained on him. "One of the rebels. And yet…" he pets invasive fingers along Ram's cheek, "you're here, helping me."

Ram turns his face away, as if to hide from the touch, but Sark traces up along the circuits on his helmet, giving back some of the energy he'd demanded. He can't help but moan as the touch warms him from within, and he looks back at Sark, whose eyes burn even more brightly.

"Oh, so you like that," Sark taunts, running his hand over the dome of his helmet until he reaches the circuit on the back of his neck that derezzes it. "I won't stop, if you play nicely." He activates the circuit, the helmet fading away, and strokes back up through his curls. "Think of this as an show of good faith."

Ram insists to himself that this is not what he wants, not why he saved the Commander. He'd never think anything so traitorous, so indecent. He can't deny how wonderful the fingers feel in his hair.

Before Sark has truly seduced him, the conditions change. Water starts to plummet from the sky, first in small, piercing streaks. It turns his stomach the same way that the waves did, leaching away some of that hard-earned energy from his body, and they share an understanding look. Ram stands to run for the shelter of the derezzed tower, but his legs are unsteady from the sudden loss and he's not as fast as he knows he should be. Then he feels them fall out from underneath him as strong arms catch him from behind, and he realizes that Sark has taken him into his arms and is carrying him at a full run. He wraps his arms around his neck to hold close, and pushes most of his energy into Sark's body, offering it to him to ensure their arrival. Sark takes it without a second thought, draining Ram of everything he offers. His back shields Ram of most of the rain's assault.

By the time they're safe, the rain has turned to bullets of hail that threaten to tear holes in their armor. Sark pushes Ram into the tower's corner, leaning him against the faint ETC strip, and Ram is shocked by the gesture, the compassion. His body drinks up the strip's power, and it's enough to calm the violent shudders that work through his body, but it doesn't stop the warning flashes of his circuits. It feels like it did on the Recognizer, and he knows that if he fades now, he won't return.

"You saved me," Sark says, assessing the dire state of his own circuits, versus his companion's peril.

"I would have saved anyone," Ram answers weakly, knowing it's a lie. He didn't save the Lieutenant. He hadn't wanted to save Sark. He's glad that his last act was one of a braver, more selfless man.

"Perhaps," suggests Sark. "No matter. I will protect you." He leans over the lithe program, observing the slow blink of his circuits, and aligns his finger circuits to his chest, passing him energy until his own start to waver as well.

Ram catches his wrist, and offers the energy back to him. There's enough energy to keep them both on the edge of derezzoloution, but not enough for them to survive for long. He hopes that Sark's death means that the flow of fresh programs will slow- that the war is ending- but he's terrified that they won't be able to support any others.

Sark crushes Ram into a desperate kiss, binding their bodies together into an amplitory system. As he passes energy back through Sark's fingers, he feels it build between them. It feels as if the very laws of physics are inverted by their connection, that the energy builds a little with each transfer, the opposite of the entropy that applied in their native system. They pass it back and forth slowly at first, until neither is in danger of fading. When Sark pulls back to meet his eyes, they are red-ringed and lusty.

Ram reaches for the circuit to derezz his own suit, and returns the expression. He wants nothing more than Sark's touch, than the blissful exchange of energy between them.

The commander doesn't go so far, himself, but he removes a panel around his member, slicking it with the energy that is leaking out of the tip. He offers his fingers to Ram, who sucks greedily, moaning at the welcome taste. Ram darts his tongue out to catch an escaping drip.

"You're going to make this worth my while," Sark purrs, and Ram licks a last drop off of his fingers before they return to his cock, to wet them enough to press into Ram without much resistance.

Ram gasps as a pulse races through his system, the opposite of the warning flashes his circuits were sending out. The touch warms him from the inside, the energy that Sark has on his fingers leaching into his body. He reaches up to search for the circuit to derezz Sark's cowl, eager to see his face, and Sark doesn't stop him. His high cheekbones were always prominent, but without so much in the way, Ram is shocked to discover how beautiful the program is. He pets along his cheek, towards his jaw, before his hand snakes around to grip his neck and pull him down into another kiss.

Sark twists his fingers inside Ram as he slips his tongue between his lips, and Ram loses track of his surroundings. The entire world condenses to Sark's body, his own, and the hum of the ETC strip that begins to fill up behind him, adding even more energy into their physical reality.

"Please," he breathes, as Sark takes a breath and pulls his fingers away. "Please."

The program doesn't tease him further. He completes the circuit, pushing himself deep into Ram and gripping the pulsing blue glyphs on his hips, their eyes locked. They fit together perfectly, and it's torturous as Sark pulls away slowly, only to connect again with more force, energy and need building with each motion. Sark's circuits are blazing now, almost as strongly as they'd shone in the heat of a lightcycle match. Ram can see that his own are brilliant, and his body feels more than simply right- he feels whole. He reaches to grip Sark's back, tracing circuits until he grabs his ass, pulling him in with more force. Anger flashes through Sark's eyes before his expression twists into a smirk, and locks the other program in another rough kiss.

Behind him, the ETC strip pulses and threatens to drain, and he disentangles himself from the commander for long enough to push him to a seating position and back against the glowing light. Sark moans as he makes contact with the new source of energy, and pulls Ram back against himself, not letting him stray. Ram straddles him, reaching between them to fit Sark back where he had been, and sets a rhythm of his own, baring his throat to possessive bites. The ruined tower glows from their shared light, a dark purple flush like the bruises that are starting to bloom on Ram's neck, and once the ETC strip drains, Sark pushes him back onto the floor to take control again, using his body like an object.

Ram has never felt his circuits so full, saturated until he needs a ground, something to release the pressure, and then he shouts as he comes, a wordless cry of relief and pleasure. The excess energy from his body spills over his stomach, a blue mess on his white skin. Sark smirks and trails his fingers through it, smearing it over Ram's lips as he bites at his neck, his body building up to his own release. Then, Sark echoes the cry against his skin, filling Ram with enough energy that it pushes him over again, correcting the excess in a burst of release. He shudders with the force of it, clinging to Sark's shoulders, and neither program moves for a long moment.

Sark stands and replaces both his full suit armor and his cowl, his eyes casting around to ensure they weren't seen. Ram lay for a longer time, at first too sated to move, and then wiped himself clean with his hand and replaced his suit. What lingered on his fingers, he licked clean, much to Sark's pleasure.

"Have you explored far?" he asks, his eyes scanning the horizon for programs in the water.

"No," Ram admits. "I haven't left this beach."

"There must be more. If there's this ETC strip, it must have a source- a well of real power. It might lead back to the rest of the system." Sark paces out of the ruined tower and looks in the other direction- an option Ram hasn't considered. The ruins had terrified him, and the arrival of other programs had seemed so much more urgent.

"I think you're right," Ram says. "I knew… there had to be more than just watching."

"We'll stick near the shelters, walking between them," Sark says, and it seems like a wise plan.

"Let's go," says Ram, and with a grin he takes Sark's hand in his own. Sark glances down irritably, but he doesn't argue, and together they set out into the unknown.

**Author's Note:**

> Note: This is somewhat inspired by a Battlestar Galactica episode of the same title, and draws much of it's imagery from there. It also takes a lot from the tone, which is one of bitter hopelessness and a struggle to pull together after the most devastating disappointment. I wouldn't call this a crossover, by any means, but I just thought it was a setting and a mood that could work for Tron.


End file.
